The Soldier
by FourShot411
Summary: Edward Cullen merely prolonged the inevitable. Isabella Swan was destined for immortality – And now, the newborn soldier must adapt to the nomadic lifestyle.
1. The Scavenger

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognized characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

 **Author's Note** : I've been itching to start writing again. So, I decided to start anew. This is a Bella and Randall pairing. After binge reading Twilight fan-fiction, I realized that no one has attempted this couple. With that being said, I'm going to alter Randall's character – not that there is much known about him. Also, I would like to add that I'm starting this with a mature rating. I don't like holding back the muse. Any who, I hope y'all enjoy the first chapter! Thank you for reading!

 **The Soldier**  
Chapter One: " _The Scavenger_ "

Bombs destroyed the isolated village. The platoon attempted to outrun the blasts, but the mercenaries showed no leniency. Bullets pierced the survivors; blood stained the moonlit sand. In a matter of moments, dozens met death. Their bodies charred by fire. Bella watched the carnage in fascination, hiding within fiery walls. Unlike the other American soldiers, she had run into the lion's den to seek cover. The locals were less likely to attack their people; their sights focused on those in fatigues. Bella's tactical mind took advantage of their hatred, finding shelter in a windowless home.

Clutching a rifle, her chocolate eyes locked onto the front door. She could not hear the battle. The blasts had caused temporary deafness. Bella had only her vision to calculate the enemy. Unfortunately, the smoke had burned her corneas. Salty tears blurred her vision. "Fuck," she breathed, eyelids blinking. Without senses, a soldier was nothing more than a sitting duck.

Another bomb landed within the battle zone. Bright light shrouded the room. Bella was thrown into a clay wall, severing her spine. She could no longer feel her legs. Desperate, she tried to crawl into the shadows. Her efforts were met with a resistance. The solider looked upwards to see a man. No, not a man, he was a vampire. Bella recognized the hunger within his black irises. A choked laugh escaped her. Even in the desert, one of them had found her.

The immortal lowered himself onto the ground. Sharp teeth plunged into her femoral artery. Bella remembered the pain. Much like the flames surrounding them, the venom burned her skin. However, this wouldn't be like the previous encounter. She would not survive the feeding. This vampire wasn't sadistic like James; he snuck into the village to eat without being noticed. Truthfully, it was a perfect method. Isabella Swan would be nothing more than a statistic in history – a causality of war. No one would suspect that a mythical creature sucked the life from her body.

Bullets interrupted the communion. Three of the enemy had spotted them within the rubble. The covered men tried to kill the monster, but their ammunition bounced of the vampire's torso. "Run," Bella pled, blood dribbling from her pout lips. The vampire released her. His hunger redirected to the mercenaries. Scared shitless, they scattered like cockroaches. Bella closed her eyes. She didn't want to witness their deaths. Once upon a time, Edward Cullen had told her that vampires were very protective of their prey. To intrude on a hunt was a death sentence.

Time passed, slowly. Bella felt the vampire's venom crystalizing her cells. Pain licked every inch of her skin. She waited for shock, but it never came. Silent screams poured from her mouth – unanswered. The solider began to prepare for the inevitable. If the vampire did not return to kill her, she would become a Cold One. Bella couldn't help but find the situation ironic. Edward had only prolonged the inevitable. Oh, how she hated him for it. She had wanted to awaken as an immortal among family. Now, she would be alone in the desert – not an animal in sight.

The ground stilled as the battle ended. Not a soul survived the destruction. Bella knew because her body remained untampered. Even as her lungs cried, no one put a bullet in her head. The vampire, her maker, vanished from the scene. As the change furthered, she felt a twinge of his life force traveling the opposite direction. It was an unexpected sensation. The Cullen Coven had never mentioned such a bond. However, maybe, it was something unique to them – the scavenger and the solider. Bella had to wonder if it was one-sided because how could he leave a newborn? The question plagued her mind until she pumped her last heartbeat.

Awakening as an immortal was startling. With heightened abilities, the world appeared foreign. Bella's crimson eyes examined the scene like a curious infant. Despite the manmade destruction, the desert was an oasis. Human memories flickered to the present. "Arizona," the soldier chimed, "I lived in a desert." Of course, the old images paled in comparison to her current view. She vaguely recalled cacti. Yes, Bella enjoyed uprooting plants from dry soil. A woman would pot them for her when she'd return home. Who was the woman? "My mom," she surmised, " _Rach_ -Rebecca? No, Renee."

The wind carried an odd noise from the east. Bella darted towards the commotion. Her movements were uncontrollable – as if being possessed by a demon. Whishing sliced through the sky; it was a helicopter. The vampire froze in fear. She couldn't smell the humans, but their heartbeats taunted her eardrums. A fierce thirst consumed her. "Shit," she cursed, searching for a hiding place. Nothing stood-out amongst the dunes. Even if there were, the army would search for survivors. Americans refused to leave a comrade, dead or alive. Defeated, Bella decided to hold her breath.

The pilot spotted her bloodstained fatigues with the helicopter's headlights. They landed a few feet away, rifles in tow. However, only one man approached her. He was middle-aged, a career officer. Bella's lips tightened at his proximity. The man didn't seem to notice her anxiety, offering a fatherly smile in greeting. "I'm Lieutenant Erikson. We are searching for the Roughnecks. They've been off the grid for three days. Are you a private in the platoon?" Bella nodded, refusing to breathe.

"What's your name, Soldier?"

Slowly, the immortal removed the tags from around her neck. The metal bent between her fingertips but remained legible. Lieutenant Erikson pulled out a flashlight, reading the credentials. "Swan, Isabella," he announced to the others, "Private of the Roughnecks." Satisfied, he returned the identification to her. The heat of his skin clung to the jewelry's surface. The red of her irises turned black, her composure slipping.

"Private Swan," the officer implored, "I think you're in shock." A beam of light crossed her inhuman eyes. Bella growled at the sudden disturbance. Without warning, she grabbed the lieutenant's wrist, shattering the bones. "Fuck," he screamed, flashlight dropping onto the sand. The vampire held onto him. Once again, she felt possessed by some unknown force. Bella tried to fight it, but the quickening beat of man's heart was too tempting. He would be her first meal – animal or not.

The soldiers shouted in the background, demanding she release their leader. Bella ignored them. Her sharp teeth bit into Lieutenant Erickson's neck. The officer begged for his life – bullets pelted her back. She wanted to stop, but the thirst refused to sate. Even as she dropped his lifeless body, Bella couldn't dull the hunger's roar. It consumed her. She latched onto her next victim – And then, the next. Within minutes, the vampire found herself surrounded by bloodless corpses. Guilt replaced the thirst.

Bella stood frozen for hours. The event replayed in her mind, over-and-over. It wasn't until the sun peeked over the horizon that she moved into action. Another squad would come to their location. Undoubtedly, the helicopter carried a signal. She stripped off her bloody rags and swapped fatigues with the smallest male. Searching the chopper, Bella found gloves and a military cap. She covered every inch of skin, praying for no sparkle. Her plan was to head south towards water. Once she was away from humanity, the newborn would focus on control. Bella wouldn't leave the ocean until she had overcame her thirst.


	2. The Rancher

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognized characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

 **Author's Note** : First, I'd like to thank the reviewers. I truly appreciate your kind words! Secondly, I'd like to thank my other readers. I hope everyone is enjoying the story! Also, I'd like to add that the banner for this fan-fiction is a photograph of _my_ Randall. Since he's such an anomaly, I thought I'd give him a face. Isn't he handsome? I colored his eyes red, but the banner is too small to notice. Oh, well!

 **The Soldier**  
Chapter Two: " _The Rancher"_

The vow of solitude ended after two years. Drifting in the boundless ocean allowed the newborn to accept her predatory nature. As a teenager, she believed vampirism to be a beautiful gift. Her girlish fantasy based on the Cullens' ease around human beings. Bella had never looked past their dazzling smiles or their aged charms. Now, she understood Edward Cullen's warnings. Though her human memories suffered through the change, she recalled his self-hatred. Bella mistook his honesty for apathy. She had been nothing more than a naïve child encouraged by fairy tales. After murdering the search party and five other nameless victims, the vampire finally grasped the weight of his conscious.

Feeling indebted to humanity, the immortal clung to vegetarian ideals. Bella fed from wandering whales; their massive size sated the thirst for several days. However, the consistency was comparable to wet sand. It took months for her to stomach the fluid. "Mind over matter," she thought. Of course, the newborn had no _mind_ during the first year. Every urge dictated by thirst. Her jumbled thoughts focused solely on the hunt.

The following summer, Bella's gentle disposition reemerged from the recesses of her mind. Snippets of the past flickered between synapses. The majority of her human recollections involved a middle-aged man with a bushy mustache. She felt fiercely protective over him – the mysterious policeman. He possessed kind eyes but sported a stern expression. The world had hardened him; abandonment depressed his laidback character. Bella recognized him as a kindred spirit. She wanted a reintroduction. Unfortunately, the vampire couldn't remember the officer's address. Simple deduction pointed her to the United States of America. Decidedly, the vampire planned to explore the states once she perfected human mannerisms.

Bella managed to practice on an uninhabited island in the Atlantic Ocean. She trained herself to move at a snail's pace. It was very difficult. Every movement had to be calculated. Luckily, a vampire's brain could process hundreds of details at once. The soldier gradually adapted to slow speeds, subconsciously blinking, and ghosting touches. Bella even practiced speaking; each syllable lingered on the tip of her tongue. She felt like an idiot most days – creeping along the coast, muttering to herself. However, the humiliation was worth the endless possibilities. Nothing would deter her.

When she deemed herself controlled, the immortal returned to civilization. She swam into the Gulf of Mexico – welcomed by the sight of Texas. Bella hid beneath the murky waters waiting for darkness. Gradually, the sun set over the horizon. The soldier wandered onto shore, tattered fatigues clinging to her perfect body. She felt lost at that particular moment. Months of effort led to an anticlimactic transition. A miserable sigh slipped through cold lips. If this was eternity, she loathed existence.

Avoiding contact, Bella explored the beaches. She needed to find fresh clothes before reentering society. Her current state of dress would only cause alarm. Unfortunately, nothing suitable was within reach. Only swimsuits littered the beach, drying in summer's heat. "Damn it," she huffed. Frustration overclouded her senses. The vampire snatched a bikini from a lawn chair, eyeing it with dismay.

"I don't know, Sugar," a masculine voice chuckled. "You might want to rethink that ensemble. We wouldn't want the menfolk to die at the sight of you."

The immortal crouched. A menacing growl vibrated within her chest. Tucked in the shadows stood an undead rancher; blonde locks trapped under a cowboy hat. He tipped the brim, a smirk pulling at the left. "Now, now," he cooed, "don't get your knickers in a twist. I'm not here to hurt you." The drawl of his words exacerbated the situation. She formed tactical fists, preparing to rip the male into pieces.

The interloper whistled, unaffected. "So, the kitten has claws – beautiful and deadly. Now, I understand the Major's fascination with you."

"Who's _that_ ," Bella hissed, pivoting deeper into the rocky earth.

The rancher ignored the question. Instead, his focus shifted towards a large duffle bag lying beside him. The vampire collected the object and tossed it towards her. The luggage skidded across the ground, landing beside her. "It's from the Major," the vampire explained. "He asked me to hand-deliver it to you."

A distantly familiar scent wafted into the air. The bag smelled of sweet grass and clover. Bella's mind recognized the scent – Jasper. Dropping her defenses, she kneeled on the beach and unzipped the black duffle. A manila envelope and a set of clothes rested inside its lining. Carefully, she examined the items – forged identification, a debit card, a pair of hiking boots, a pair of dark-wash skinny jeans, a set of wool socks, a wife beater, a lace thong, and a black sports bra. Relief consumed her.

"You're a Whitlock," the stranger grinned. "We take care of our own."

"Jasper wanted to kill me," she stated; brows furrowed.

"That's the Major for you," he laughed. "But if you want my advice, don't look a gift horse in the mouth. He inducted you into our fucked-up family. Just accept his generosity."

"The Cullens don't want me."

"Who said anything about the bunny munchers," he sassed. "We're talking about Jasper Whitlock, my sire. He is _not_ a fucking Cullen."

"I don't understand any of this," the soldier admitted.

"What's there to understand? The Major has taken you under his wing. He's given you a new name, a hefty bank account, and a fresh set of britches. When the time comes, he'll find you – answer your questions."

Bella nodded, still processing.

"Look, Sugar. I don't know your story, but you seem like a good kid. Why don't we get better acquainted? You can come to mine – meet the missus. It's only a quick run from here. Hell, I'll even let you snack on a coyote before we reach the house."

Golden irises met crimson. Their stillness anchored to the unanswered invitation. "Stranger danger," Bella mused. Despite his lighthearted banter, the unknown vampire oozed dominance. Crescent scars littered his neck and hands. However, the rancher seemed like an honest man. He claimed to be family – a son of Jasper Whitlock. His dangerous presence derived from years of experience. If Bella accepted his company, she could pick his brain for information. Ignorance bred fools; she refused to live eternity as an uneducated twenty-year-old. Decided, Bella gifted the rancher with a tightlipped smile. "I'll accompany you if the offer still stands."

"Of course, it stands," he huffed. "I'm a man of my word."

The rancher closed the distance between them. Without request, he grabbed the duffle bag and threw it onto his shoulder. Bella frowned at his chivalrous display. She hated being treated like a helpless woman; the distaste ingrained in her psyche. The soldier began to voice her disapproval, but the southern vampire darted north. Strings of boisterous laughter acted as breadcrumbs to his trail. Annoyed, Bella followed him. Her previous inclination of worry was long forgotten.


	3. The Whitlock

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognized characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

 **Author's Note** : Phew. This chapter had me sweating bullets. I'm still a little apprehensive on the final product, but I think it's a keeper. Thank you for reading! Special thanks to my reviewers, favorite(rs), and followers! I hope you enjoy this next installment!

 **The Soldier**  
Chapter Three: " _The Whitlock_ "

Two rows of venomous teeth lodged into her upper-arm. The fresh sting bestowed by Peter Whitlock, the undead rancher. He locked scarred arms around her waist. The goal was to push the soldier into the mud – minus one limb. His intent wasn't malicious. In fact, Bella asked for the spar. However, the blonde vampire didn't do anything halfway. After nine days of rigorous training, he refused to coddle her. "You're a Whitlock," he claimed. The statement held weight. After spending time with Peter, the immortal learned the surname's history. Whitlocks represented the most lethal warriors in the United States.

A sickening crack joined the fight. Bella's left arm landed on the ground, wiggling. She ignored the odd sensation of detachment. Instead, the immortal used the space to break from Peter's hold. Once removed from his grasp, she swiped a leg beneath him. Of course, he jumped from the attack, but the soldier prepared for his landing. Darting right, Bella threw her body into his muscled form. He tumbled onto the ground; she followed him. Long legs wrapped around his torso, locking-in his arms. Immediately, she bit into his neck. The sweet taste of venom tickled her tongue. Bella growled, appreciating the victory. She had never overcome Peter Whitlock – Jasper's prodigal son.

They remained still, accepting the turn of events. The southern wind blew against their statuesque bodies. Eventually, the call of her arm overruled the pleasure of battle. Bella rose from the soil and retrieved the sparkling appendage. Before meeting the rancher, her arm had displayed a single bite. Now, several glittered across its surface. "Battle wounds," Peter called them. Apparently, it was a Whitlock's badge of honor. To walk amongst vampires with crescent scars meant formidability.

Carefully, Bella reattached the arm. A thin mark tattooed around the area of separation. Despite the dismemberment, the soldier enjoyed their skirmish. She had needed the assurance. If the vampire could overpower the retired captain of a newborn army, she could easily travel as a nomad. Her goal to search for the police officer had not changed; she needed to find him. The browns of the man's eyes held answers – soothed her soul. Why couldn't she remember his name?

"Your wheels are turning," Peter commented, dusting off his Wranglers.

The soldier wanted to confide in the rancher. He had proven himself trustworthy, but an unknown emotion deterred her. Since arriving onto his land, Bella spoke very little. She maintained a practical distance from Peter – unless to spar. As for the rancher's mate, the immortal had no opinion. Charlotte Whitlock avoided her like the plague. Whenever Bella entered the house, the southern belle scampered outside. Her blatant discomfort solidified a discharge date. The soldier vowed to leave their territory after fourteen days. Unfortunately, Bella still needed information. If she didn't overthrow the nonsensical feeling, her questions would remain unanswered.

"Want some help?"

"What do you mean," Bella asked, confused.

"Well, there's something you don't know about me," he smirked. "I have a talent for knowing shit. For example, I _know_ you lost your virginity to a werewolf."

"What—what," she sputtered.

"Surprised, Sugar? Well, I've got more! Let's see," he paused, tapping his chin. "I _know_ that you've broken fifteen bones. I _know_ your favorite book is Wuthering Heights. I _know_ you're leaving in five days to search for your father. I _know_ …."

"My father," the soldier interrupted, "the police officer?"

Peter shrugged, "My sixth sense doesn't linger on the details."

The immortal allowed the words to soak; her mind whirled around the newly discovered information. Could the kindred spirit be her dad? "Yes," she thought. Their blood-tied relationship explained the protectiveness. However, why did she recall Renee and not him? Bella felt no love towards her mother. Then again, her memories might be insinuating something. Since awakening, she only remembered a handful of people: Renee, Jacob, James, Victoria, and the Cullen Coven. "Pain," she concluded. Each of them had harmed her, emotionally or physically. Their offenses established in her psyche.

Renewed, Bella approached the rancher on a different topic. She needed to understand her maker's bond. Its pull stretched across the Pacific Ocean. Though the connection seemed harmless, the soldier feared its possibility. The immortal knew nothing about the scavenging vampire – even his appearance. The fiery carnage had blinded her vision. She could only recall the hunger in his eyes – endless pits of black. If the bond was two-sided, he could track her. Bella dismissed running; she was a Whitlock. However, the mysterious immortal represented a potential threat. Acknowledging the danger had urged her to train with Peter.

"It sounds like a gift," he offered. "Unique too."

"So, you don't have a bond with Jasper?"

"Not like that, Sugar. Our bond is built through hardship. To me, it sounds like your sire can manifest bonds in his children – keep tabs so to speak. It's a handy gift. If he wanted to create a newborn army, they'd be under his thumb.

"Of course," Peter continued, "you might've been his first kid. Most likely, he didn't know about his gift until you began to turn. I reckon that's why he didn't kill you. Once the venom started running its course, the bond took hold. Probably scared him shitless."

Bella nodded. "Do you think he'll hunt me down?"

"Sugar, he's a dumbass. He should've found you when your heart stopped beating. You're fucking lucky that the bunny munchers broke the law. If they hadn't provided you with basic entail, you'd be a pile of ash. The Volturi would've hunted you down like a prized buck," he surmised. "However, I'm thinking the fucker will come to his senses. He'll probably look for you in a few years."

"I'll just have to be prepared," she stated.

"I doubt he'll harm you. You're his prodigy – his kinfolk. Vampires are feeling creatures. Our emotions run deeper than humans. Even without the fucked-up bond, he would still want a relationship with you."

"Well, he has a sucky way of showing it."

Peter's boisterous laughter lightened the mood. He snuck an arm around her shoulders, leading her towards the house. As expected, Charlotte scrambled out the backdoor before they stepped onto the porch. Her sudden departure didn't damper the rancher's mood; his laugh transformed into a chuckle. Quickly, Peter navigated them into the house, drawing her into an office. With a tilt of his head, he motioned the soldier into a sturdy seat. A laptop sat in front of her.

"If you're leaving in a few days, you need to prepare for the trip," he advised. "I _know_ you like motorcycles. Shop online. We'll pick-up whatever suits your fancy.

"You should order some gear too. We can't have your ass sparkling down the freeway. Buy a helmet, jacket, and some gloves. Also, you might consider buying new clothes. You look like you've been tumbling in the mud with a grizzly bear."

"Yeah, yeah," Bella sassed. "Thanks for everything, Peter."

"That's what family's for," he grinned. "Holler if you need anything!"

Alone, the soldier revisited the earlier discussion. Excitement vibrated through her body. After years of disorganized thoughts, she finally felt centered. Peter absolved her ignorance and provided closure. Now, the nomadic lifestyle seemed like an adventure. Bella planned to submerge herself into civilization. Someday, the immortal would thank Jasper Whitlock. He had gifted her a new life, a brother, and hope. Bella vowed to uphold their family honor. After all, Whitlocks took care of their own.


	4. The Pixie

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognized characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

 **Author's Note** : Hello, everyone! First, thank you for choosing to read this little tale! I truly appreciate the reviews, favorites, and follows. Second, this chapter is a tad shorter than the rest. However, I'm trying to make a nice flow – every chapter carrying its own story. I don't want to trap the reader into needless fluff. Hopefully, I'm being successful! With that being said, enjoy this latest chapter!

 **The Soldier**  
Chapter Four: " _The Pixie_ "

A blue metal sign reflected against the moonlight: _Welcome to the Oklahoma! Discover the Excellence_. Unfortunately, the billboard exaggerated the terrain. For miles, dry flatlands stretched across the state. The homesteads resting off the highway were lifted by cinderblocks; junky vehicles parked on brown lawns. As Bella drove north on I-35, the farms transformed into trailer parks. Many of the inhabitants slept. Their snores drifted onto the deserted road. For some unknown reason, the sounds soothed her. The soldier itched to remove her helmet. However, the sun promised to rise within the hour. Her focus needed to be on refueling the beast.

An exit appeared as she approached Ardmore, Oklahoma. Flicking a blinker, Bella drifted onto the access road. A small café sat on the right. Oddly, it provided gasoline. The vampire pulled into the gravel lot, parking at a pump. She removed her helmet and savored the pre-morning air. The distinct smell of coffee wafted into her nostrils. "Damn, that actually smells good," she frowned. Bella missed waking-up to a pot of freshly ground beans. Even in the military, the Roughnecks prepared instant coffee. Some evenings, it was the only thing to provide warmth. Maybe, she'd sample a mug.

The immortal went through the motions. Slowly, the nozzle poured gasoline into the tank. Bella allowed her eyes to wander on the café. An elderly woman flittered inside the establishment, possibly preparing for the morning's customers. She looked tired. Obviously, the coffee was meant for her. The soldier debated interrupting the woman's routine. Bella really wanted to try a cup. Plus, human company sounded pleasant. The waitress had a motherly aura. No doubt, someone knew her as Grandma. Decided, she finished filling the motorcycle and inched towards the door. An obnoxious ringing halted her movements.

An ancient payphone screamed off the corner of the building. "Huh," she paused. Curious, Bella walked towards the monstrosity. The noise ceased. "That's weird." Then, it began to ring again. The immortal grabbed the handset, stuttering a hello.

"Oh, thank God," a woman screeched. "I didn't know if you'd answer! I've been trying to reach you for hours, Bella! You seriously need to buy a cell-phone! I can't keep hunting down every godforsaken phone number."

"Alice," the soldier asked, "Alice Cullen?"

"Who else would it be," the pixie lipped. "I've been _watching_ you for years. Thankfully that gift of yours doesn't block my visions. I've been able to see everything since we left Forks. Well, not everything. Those stupid mutts cast a shadow on things. I didn't even know that you'd enlisted until you were in basic training! If I had of known, I would've kidnapped you. Screw Edward!

"Any way, I needed to talk to you. First, don't go into the restaurant. You'll get caught inside – there's no window film. You'll sparkle like a disco ball. Second, if you're looking for Charlie, he's in Forks, Washington. But, you need to be careful. There are werewolves crawling everywhere. I think your dad is friends with them too. When I look into his future, it's fuzzy. And third, you need to explore California. I can't go into the details, but it's very important that you take in the sights."

" _Insert a dime to add additional time_ ," an automated voice intervened.

"Stupid payphones! Seriously, Bella. You need to buy a cell-phone. How are you going to keep in touch with me, Jazz, and Peter? This is unacceptable."

The line went dead. Bella's brow furrowed as she returned the receiver. Snippets of a bouncing pixie lingered at the edges of her memories. They had been friends. However, the immortal felt only annoyance towards her. If she wasn't married to Jasper, the soldier would've ripped her into pieces. The tone of her voice was patronizing. "Fuck her," the vampire mumbled. Despite the generous information, Bella refused to rekindle their relationship. She would not be bought by Alice Cullen.

Returning to the beast, the soldier pondered her next plan of action. Did she want to explore California? "Yeah," she sighed. If the pixie believed something of importance resided there, Bella knew better than to bet against the she-devil. Reluctantly, the immortal resolved to travel towards California and then head for Washington. During the drive, she'd strategize a way to avoid the werewolves. Though apparently, Jacob Black was one of them. She vaguely remembered having sex with him; it had been a painful experience. Hopefully, their teenage stupidity granted her privilege. Bella needed to meet her father – wolves be damned.

Satisfied, the vampire slid on her helmet. There was fifteen-hundred miles of highway between Oklahoma and California. As Peter would say, "She best be getting a move on."


	5. The Deviant

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognized characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

 **Author's Note** : I am tickled by all the positive responses! Thank you so much! As for the newcomers, I hope you enjoy the story! (Again, thanks are in order for to my reviewers, favorite(rs), and followers! Y'all push me to write!) On another note, I'd like to address one review: Randall is a _very_ minor character. He is only present during the final book. However, I thought it'd be fun to drag him into fan-fiction. Of course, I've put my spin on his character. I want Bella to meet her match! Any who, happy reading!

 **The Soldier**  
Chapter Five: " _The Deviant_ "

The City of Angels thrived at night. Taxis, limousines, and high-end cars littered Sunset Boulevard. Humans of all ethnic backgrounds joined as friends; each dressed in designer labels. The average sidewalks transformed into red-carpet appearances. Flashes of light blinded the sightseers, amazement glowing on their faces. Bella walked amongst the crowd. An occasional tourist snuck a photograph of her profile. Most believed the vampire was model or actress – too beautiful to be normal. She shied from the attention. The immortal had always disliked cameras.

In West Hollywood, various venues welcomed the public. Bella read the marques and chose the House of Blues. She purchased a ticket for Social Distortion. Walking into the establishment, the soldier felt at ease. The drunken crowd moshed on the main floor; their attention focused on the opening band. Unlike the high-society strutting outdoors, the patrons wore regular clothes – mostly black. Despite Bella's allure, she blended with the masses. Wearing Chuck Taylors, a pair of skinny jeans, and a wife beater, the vampire seemed to have adopted punk rock couture.

The loud music deafened the beating hearts. Bella pushed into the crowd, nodding her head to the bassline. A misguided teenager attempted to drag her into the pit. She gently redirected him to another candidate. Smiling at his antics, the soldier relaxed in the sea of warm bodies. Even as human blood spilled onto the floor, she remained casual. Only the darkening of her irises reflected the predator lurking within.

When Social Distortion came onto the stage, the crowd scrambled to the front. The mosh-pit doubled in size. The humans' vigorous movements casted Bella to the sidelines. She watched the scene in complete fascination. Mesmerized, the soldier didn't notice a set of ruby eyes observing her. Even after the encore, Bella remained oblivious.

Drawn into the main lobby, the immortal decided to buy a t-shirt. She wanted a token of her first memorable concert experience. Ironically, the emblem for Social Distortion was a skeleton drinking red substance from a martini glass. A smirk played at her lips while she purchased the cotton-blend. With mirth, Bella designated the top to become her official concert ensemble. The punk band would be represented throughout eternity, stretched across her breasts.

Returning outdoors, Bella started towards her hotel. After weeks of traveling the coast, she bit the bullet and purchased a room. The decision derived from lack of clothes and a need to shower. Feeding in the national parks created a mess. Most of her clothes sported rips and bloodstains. Alice, the meddlesome bitch, called the Hilton. She begged to send suitable attire as if Bella hadn't a fashionable bone in her body. "Fuck you," ended the conversation. If the pixie didn't back-off, Jasper would become a widower.

At the corner of Sunset Boulevard and Larrabee Street, a scent of vampire poisoned the air. Its distinct odor flipped a switch, releasing the caged predator. Bella sped towards the deviant. A muffled scream exploited his exact position. She discovered him in an alley, feeding from a local. He dropped the corpse when she appeared. A startled expression graced his bloodied face. "Isabella," the vulture breathed, "My, what a surprise." The Frenchman knew her name – a face of the past. Bella hated him; She wanted to dismember him and burn the pieces.

"Victoria will be pleased," he hummed. "She has been searching for you."

The soldier ignored the comment. Instead, she attacked with full force. Within seconds, Bella removed an arm and a piece of his shoulder. The dreadlocked vampire cursed in French. He managed to land a punch, but the action sent him off-balance. Bella charged him, separating his other arm. Venom spurted onto her shirt. The deviant tried to run; fear replaced his previous amusement. Bella growled at his cowardly behavior. "Please," the bastard begged, "I am innocent!" Again, she refused to listen. Deep down, the soldier knew him to be a monster.

"You're right," she hissed. "I am Isabella – Isabella _Whitlock_."

"No," he shouted, understanding the inclination.

Bella ceased the wail by biting into his neck. With a sickening crack, the Frenchman's head tumbled onto the ground. Dismembering the remainder of the dark-skinned immortal, she hunted for a lighter. Luckily, the deceased human kept a BIC within her purse. Throwing the vampire's body into the dumpster, she ignited the bastard. Plumes of purple smoke rose from the alley. Bella waited until the pieces dissolved before closing the lid.

As she walked from the scene, a soft landing bounced behind her. Bella turned around, coming face-to-face with another vampire. He appeared to be in his early twenties, standing slightly over six feet tall. Brilliant red eyes locked onto her features. His sudden approach should have caused a fight-or-flight response. However, the soldier found herself leaning into his presence. The man defied logic; he was an angel dressed like a T-Bird. His wondrous aroma hypnotized her – eucalyptus and spearmint. Bella practically swooned, struck by his masculine beauty. She opened her mouth to speak; nothing came of it.

"I know what you mean," he grinned, seductively.

The soldier closed the small distance between them. As their bodies touched, the world seemed to shift. Bella felt a plethora of emotions: happiness, love, protectiveness, respect, loyalty, and lust. Each precious feeling reserved for the handsome vampire. " _Mate_ ," she purred. He nodded, wrapping cool arms around her. The immortal vowed to never leave his side – she was his; he was hers.

"Come with me," he whispered, words ghosting across her hair. A delicious shiver traveled down her spine. Bella could only nod. She would travel the ends of the world with him – beginning with California.


	6. The Goddess

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognized characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

 **Author's Note** : I just couldn't stop writing after the last chapter. I needed to get this sucker on page. With that being said, _there are very mature things in this chapter_. (This is your warning.) Alright? Okay! Now, thanks to my reviewers, favorite(rs), and followers! I hope y'all enjoy this one! It's in Randall's perspective – head's up!

 **The Soldier**  
Chapter Six: " _The Goddess_ "

(Randall's Perspective)

 _Against the Rest_ galloped onto the stage; a swarm of followers boarded the main floor. After the first rift, the ska-punks went into a frenzy. Young men transformed into Neanderthals. They released a week's worth of frustration on their brethren. Punches were thrown; beer spilt onto the concrete. The listeners' vigor brought forth by the sound. Randall loved the chaos. Music understood the soul. The vampire felt more alive under strobe lights, bobbing to the local bands. As Bob Marley said, "One good thing about music, when it hits you, you feel no pain."

The headliner brought him to the House of Blues. Social Distortion was a Californian legend. Rock enthusiasts across the world demanded news. Randall promised to fulfill their requests by writing an article. Over the past fifty years, he had assumed the role as an entertainment journalist. The vampire used various pseudonyms to cover his tracks. Luckily, people enjoyed his pieces. Rolling Stone hired him as a contract worker, while he continued to run a highly regarded music blog. Life was good.

Towards the end of the opener's set, the club's door unlatched. Randall frowned at the interruption. However, his aggravation shifted into awe. A goddess entered the threshold. Deathly pale skin illuminated by the dimmed lights. She wore a sheer wife beater; the cotton material stretched over a six-pack and perky breasts. Her bare arms bore crescent scars – marks of supremacy. Toned legs hid beneath tight jeans. Adorning her slender feet were a pair of black converse. As Randall's eyes scanned upwards, he noticed the shade of her hair. It hung in waves of mahogany, framing her beautiful face. Unlike others of their kind, her irises were gold. Black eyelashes highlighted their lightness. A set of pout lips teased him. "God," he swore, "she's gorgeous."

The female immortal joined the masses. Their injuries unfazed her. She moved with music, accepting it into her heart. It was most breathtaking sight that he'd ever witnessed. When Social Distortion began to play, the vampire maneuvered to sidelines. Randall noticed that she acted human. The goddess blinked, breathed, and fidgeted. Only a handful of mortals seemed unsettled by her presence. Truthfully, the journalist believed their nervousness coincided with her beauty. The goddess outshined every being in the room.

When the last song ended, the crowd pushed to the lobby. The brunette immortal followed the swarm. She stopped at the merchandise table and bought a t-shirt. The roadie drooled over her – examining the name on the debit card. The woman seemed oblivious to his gawking. She thanked the sleaze-ball, tucking the memento into her back pocket. A primal growl rumbled in his chest. "Mine," met deaf ears.

Randall trailed the goddess for a couple of blocks. He opted for the rooftops to avoid the pedestrians. The woman kept a slow speed, scoping the strip. Then, without warning, she darted down Larrabee Street. A gurgled scream echoed from an alleyway. When they both arrived to the scene, a Rastafarian vampire was finishing a club girl. The olive toned male knew the goddess. "Isabella," dripped from his bloody lips. The female didn't udder a word – she attacked him, aiming to kill.

The fight was an embarrassment. Obviously, the vampires were unmatched. His goddess ripped the poor bastard into pieces. She ended the battle without a scratch. It became painfully obvious that the woman was a trained warrior. Not only did she rival Aphrodite's beauty, she personified Enyo. Randall felt his trousers tighten. He needed her like he needed blood. She was the missing piece to his puzzle.

Jumping from the rooftop, he announced himself. The goddess faced him; golden eyes scanned his form. Randall preened at her approval. She tried to speak but became tongue-tied. "I know what you mean," he grinned. Of course, the statement turned into actual fact. When the woman nuzzled into his chest, the journalist lost all sense of self. She became his reason for existence. Love consumed him.

" _Mate_ ," she purred.

"Come with me," he pleaded.

Tucking her into his side, they jumped onto the rooftops. Carefully, he directed them to his bungalow. The goddess smiled throughout the run. It brought warmth to his heart. After decades of solitude, he never imagined finding his mate. Most vampires avoided California due to the sunlight. It was a blessing and a curse. Randall thanked whatever god for her venturous nature. He couldn't imagine a life without her – _his_ goddess.

They reached the house within a few minutes. Randall picked-up his mate and carried her through the threshold. Isabella chuckled at his behavior; the sound rivaled chiming bells. Boldly, he snuck her into the master bedroom. The need to claim her possessed him. The brunette immortal didn't complain. In fact, the sweet scent of her arousal perfumed the air. The journalist purred in delight, placing her on his needless bed. "You're mine," he declared, "only mine." The words caused the goddess to moan; her thighs rubbed together in discomfort.

"Yours," she vowed.

Randall removed their clothes and began his exploration. His previous assessment proved wrong. The woman did not rival Aphrodite; she outshined the hag. Lying bare, her toned body defined beauty. The journalist grasped a perfect breast, suckling on a rosy nipple. Isabella voiced her pleasure like a siren. His dick became impossibly hard. "Fuck," he breathed, "So goddamn beautiful."

Taking a finger, he massaged her clit. Already, wetness pooled at her entrance. Randall traveled downward, pushing a finger into her folds. "You're soaking," Randall growled. "I can't wait. I need you."

The goddess nodded, spreading her milky legs. Her concentrated arousal hit him like a wrecking ball. Randall removed his finger, replacing it with his large cock. The moment he entered her, heaven crashed onto earth. Both vampires released animalistic groans. His mate was tight, practically a virgin. The journalist sunk deep inside her, reveling in her heat. " _Fuck_ ," he repeated.

Then, he began the ride. His goddess latched onto him; her arms wrapped around his shoulders. They shared a passionate kiss, savoring each other's tastes. All too soon, she moaned release. Her walls clamped onto his dick. The sensation brought forth his orgasm; venomous seed filled his mate's body. Randall bit into his lover's neck – staking claim. Not to be out done, Isabella scarred his. He expected nothing less from the warrior.

Still hard, Randall refused to leave his position. His mate was not leaving the bed until they broke it. Thankfully, the goddess shared his appetite. The vixen flipped their positions, sitting on his cock. "My turn," she growled. With _that_ , they fucked for days. The vampires destroyed every piece of furniture in the bungalow. Randall lavished in their chaos – just like music. God, he loved her.


	7. The Vegetarian

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognized characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

 **Author's Note** : This chapter has more dialogue than any of the previous. You'll probably be seeing more because I want our newest couple to get to know one another – outside of screwing like bunnies. Hopefully, you'll enjoy this next segment! Thank you to my reviewers, favorite(rs), and followers! I truly appreciate your encouragement! (I am going to add a little footnote at the end. Head's up!)

 **The Soldier**  
Chapter Seven: " _The Vegetarian_ "

The carnal haze lifted after five days. Their scents ingrained within each other. Bella regained sensibilities upon hearing a phone ring. Naked, she stumbled into the massacred master suite. Randall nipped at her heels, fingers reaching for skin. A girlish giggle sprang from her throat. Love ignited her soul. However, their impromptu mating disregarded one thing – her belongings. Bella had left everything at the hotel. She had only paid for one night. Undoubtedly, the management had commandeered her possessions. The immortal needed to return to the Hilton, dressed. Hopefully, her clothes survived unlike the rest the house.

"What are you doing," Randall growled, playfully.

"I left my things at a hotel. I need to get them."

"Hotel," he grumbled. "I assumed you were just running through the area."

"Yeah, I was _just_ visiting. However, I needed a shower and clothes. I figured that I'd take advantage of the Hilton, sightsee Los Angeles, and then, swing by a Target."

Warm arms wrapped around her waist. Bella leaned into his body. Randall's full lips nibbled on her neck causing temporary memory loss. She turned around, soundly kissing him. The urge to fuck began arise. With a defeated groan, the soldier pulled from the embrace. "It'll only take an hour," Bella promised. "I just need to grab my bag and release my motorcycle from valet."

"Motorcycle? Damn," he growled again, "that's _sexy_."

"Yeah, yeah," she smirked. "You're welcome to come with me, but I need to hunt. I'll probably make a pit-stop at Topanga State Park."

"Why do you need to stop there? There's plenty of humans wandering around the city. Trust me. You'll enjoy what Hollywood has to offer."

Bella frowned, realizing their dietary differences. "No," she sighed, "I don't feed from humans. I survive on the blood of animals. You might have noticed that my eyes are gold. That's why."

"I see…," he breathed. Discomfort clouded his cheery disposition. Bella avoided his eyes, searching for the discarded clothing. She managed to find jeans, the concert t-shirt, and the Chuck Taylors. Quickly, the soldier dressed, deciding to go commando. Randall remained still throughout her activity. His lips pressed in a hard line.

"Look, we don't have to make a big deal out of it. I'm not going to try to change your eating habits. I just decided a long time ago that I would only feed from animals," she explained. "And before you ask, I have tasted human blood. I've killed nine people. When I awoke to this life, I was alone. I couldn't combat the thirst. However, now, I plan to stick to animals. It goes against my principles to kill human beings."

"We're vampires," he murmured.

Bella smiled despite the conversation. Her perplexed mate resembled a confused puppy – absolutely adorable. The soldier returned to his side, placing a small kiss on his chest. "Don't look so worried," she soothed. "Everything will be fine."

The lost phone rang again. Randall detached himself and dug through the debris. Upon the third ring, he answered the Lumia. A familiar screech echoed throughout the room. Bella snarled, snaking the device for her mate. "Alice," she seethed, "I am going to kill you. Do not ever call this number again."

"Oh, come on, Bella," the pixie huffed. "I just wanted to tell you that I took care of hotel. A delivery service will be bringing everything to you. No need for threats!"

"Fuck you, Alice. I am fully capable of collecting my belongings. I do not need you sticking your nose in my business. I am not your friend. Stop looking into my future."

"It doesn't have to be that way! We were the best of friends! I just want us to start over – rekindle our previous friendship. After all, you can't avoid me for eternity. I am Jasper's mate. We're family."

"Alice, I don't know what you've been smoking, but we are not family," Bella argued. "I am a Whitlock, not a Cullen. Jasper and Peter are my family. I have no desire to have a relationship with you. So, fuck off."

A deep chuckle disrupted the conversation. Randall stuck out his hand, requesting the Lumia. The soldier dropped the phone in his palm; a scowl planted on her face. He clicked the disconnect button and turned the ringer on vibrate. Immediately upon ending the call, the offensive device buzzed against granite skin. Bella debated smashing it into a million pieces. Her mate distracted the urge with a heated kiss. The immortal bought the bait and began to unzip her jeans.

Unfortunately, a knock rapped at the front door. Bella cursed beneath her breath. Her irritation spurred Randall's amusement. The chuckles grew into laughter. Flipping him the bird, the vampire answered the door. A thirty-something year old man stood outside, dressed in a brightly colored uniform. "Miss Whitlock," he greeted, "I have a delivery for you." He shifted towards the driveway, beckoning two younger men to the threshold. "We'll unload the Harley Davidson near the garage, but we can bring the other boxes inside."

"I just had the motorcycle and a backpack."

"The concierge had three boxes for you – packages from a Missus Cullen."

"I _am_ going to kill that bitch," she fumed, frightening the worker.

"Uh, how about I leave the boxes at the doorstep?"

"That's fine," Bella gritted. "Thank you."

The delivery service completed the task within minutes. Without a goodbye, they jetted from the property. Bella moved the boxes inside the house, pissed. Her mate entered the living area once the humans left. A wry smile graced his features. "Well," Randall started, "You may be a vegetarian, but you are a _very_ intimidating woman. Remind me to never get on your bad side. I'd like to keep my dick intact." To back-up the statements, her mate cradled his manly parts, hiding them from view.

"Alice gets under my skin," she admitted. "You have nothing to worry about."

He continued to smile, closing the distance between them. Their lips reconnected causing the world to disappear. Bella hummed in appreciation. Touching him righted every wrong. Randall seemed to agree – onyx spheres full of desire. "I need you once more," her mate breathed. "Then, we'll hunt." The soldier attempted to reply, but the words became lost. The Californian vampire tackled her onto the ground, claiming the spot between her thighs. Bella moaned at his aggressiveness. "You're mine, Little Vegetarian," he smirked. "Let me show you." Show her, he did.

* * *

 **Foot Note:** A Lumia is a Windows cell-phone. I've chosen this particular phone because it doesn't require heat to use. At first, I was going to write in an iPhone, but I kept thinking, "How would a vampire use one?" Honestly, they can't touch the screen. So, that's my little ramble. I figured someone might ask.


	8. The Journalist

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognized characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

 **Author's Note** : As I've mentioned, this chapter will also be more dialogue. I want y'all to see the dynamic between Bella and Randall. Hopefully, I'm succeeding! Again, thank you for the reviews, favorites, and follows. I received some great feedback! I hope everyone enjoys this next chapter! Happy reading! (Also, there is another foot note.)

 **The Soldier**  
Chapter Eight: " _The Journalist_ "

Truths strengthened the couple's bond. As they cleaned the bungalow, each shared pieces of their history. Randall provided more information. Having been turned in the sixties, a majority of his memories were finely tuned. Bella learned that he'd been a musician prior to damnation. A Russian vampire, Boris, stole his life at the age of twenty-one. Her mate described him as a jovial man, a human enthusiast. However, Randall abhorred his company. The European lived as a constant reminder of his death. After three years, the Californian returned west, deciding to readapt into civilization. Once he settled, Randall used his knowledge of music to become a journalist. Now, he was a sought after commodity, a mystery to industry – Randall Wilkes, a Rolling Stone.

The property displayed his passion for music. In every room, concert posters hung on the walls. Each piece was one of a kind, purchased at shows. Instruments casually leaned on certain surfaces. Framed magazine covers lined the hallway; hundreds of articles pressed between glass. Randall promised to create a space for her, but Bella denied him. The bungalow felt like home despite the splintered mess. "We'll buy furniture together," was her promise. They'd combined their tastes with the largest pieces. The soldier refused to store her mate's accomplishments. All she needed was a dresser drawer.

"What about the boxes," he asked.

The three packages lingered by the front door. As they'd dumped the debris in a rented dumpster, the brown boxes taunted her. Now, that the house was somewhat bare, their presence became painfully obvious. Bella sighed, ripping one open. Sweet grass and clover wafted into the air – Jasper. The soldier dumped the contents onto the hardwood floors. A pair of black cowboy boots greeted her, accompanied by a four-pack of wife beaters and a six sets of wool socks. The immortal hugged the leather footwear, soaking in the southern aroma. She had never been materialistic, but Bella loved the Justins.

"Open the others," Randall pressed. "You're making me jealous over a pair of boots."

Bella chuckled, releasing the ebony beauties. She moved onto the second box, another treat from Jasper. It contained two pairs of jeans, a mirrored pair of Ray Ban aviators, and a collection of classical books. The soldier examined each item closely. She marveled at the effort placed with each purchase. Jasper Whitlock understood her character; he bought things that she wouldn't discard. The immortal's appreciation doubled for her family member. She needed to thank him.

The third box smelled of Sweet Tarts. Bella knew the abomination came from Alice Cullen. Like the others, she dumped the contents onto the ground. No surprise, a cell-phone resided in the parcel. The soldier crushed the packaging before the device could mutter a sound. The other items were a Marc Jacobs shoulder bag, an Apple laptop, and a silver Rolex watch. Thousands of dollars spent on four items. Being spiteful, Bella wanted to smash the gifts. However, it seemed wasteful to toss them into the trash. Eventually, she'd have to buy a purse and a computer. Alice, the meddlesome bitch, beat her to it. Luckily, the gifts didn't scream wealth; they were simply designed. Even the watch looked casual.

The journalist whistled, "She sure knows how to spend money."

"Alice is a snob," Bella explained. "I'm surprised she didn't send a mountain of designer clothes. However, I'm sure that's Jasper's doing. I'm pretty basic. It doesn't make sense to spend a small fortune on clothes. They'll end up being bloody and torn."

"Speak for yourself. Humans don't fight like mountain lions. I could go hunting in a white suit – no blood spilt."

"Ha, ha," she deadpanned.

"I'm just teasing you. You're goddamn sexy when you hunt."

The soldier smiled. Their dietary differences hadn't become problematic. Randall hunted alone in the city, while she sampled the surrounding wildlife. Once, her mate accompanied her to Topanga State Park. She had sacked a formidable feline. Upon watching the feat, the journalist pounced on her. They fucked in the woods, decimating several trees. The carnal act relinquished any doubts regarding vegetarianism. Randall coined the nickname Trapper.

"You know, we probably should get you a phone," the journalist advised, looking at the flattened cellular box. "When we're separated, I wouldn't worry so much. Plus, you mentioned wanting to go to Washington. It'd be wise to have another form of communication if we decide to travel."

"About that," Bella sighed. "I need explain why."

"Shoot."

"My father lives in Forks, Washington. Since awakening, I've been wanting to meet him. It's been my main objective for years. No doubt, the government reported my death. He has no reason to believe that I'm alive; it's been over two years. However, I want him to know me – to see me with his eyes. It's completely selfish, but I need to do it."

"It's against our laws to expose ourselves to humans, Bella."

"I know," she exhaled. "A part of me is hoping that he won't ask; he'll just accept the strange circumstances. After all, he hangs out with werewolves. If Charlie can be friends with them, why wouldn't he accept me?"

" _Werewolves_? Jesus Christ," Randall swore.

"Yeah, Jacob Black is one of them. I vaguely remember us being friends. Peter says that I lost my virginity to him. I'm hoping that our history will allow me to visit my dad. Otherwise, I might have to fight a pack of mutts."

Her mate began pacing the empty den, pale fingers clutching his chocolate colored pompadour. "So, let me get this straight. You want to invade wolves' territory, announce yourself to a human, and possibly battle said pack of werewolves?"

"In a nutshell."

Randall ceased movement; his brow furrowed in frustration. "I can't talk you out of this," he asked. "I just got you, Trapper. I can't imagine anything bad happening to you. You are my life. I love the shit out of you."

"Nothing will happen to me," Bella promised. "I am a soldier, a Whitlock. I am very capable of protecting myself. And, I don't ever want to be apart from you. I love you too much. No one, not even a werewolf, will separate us."

The journalist plopped beside her on the floor. He grabbed her neck, pulling them into a searing kiss. Their connection removed the fear; Bella purred in contentment. She would never foolishly risk their love. Randall meant more than anything to her. However, the vampire knew how fleeting life was for mortals. She needed to reconnect with the police officer before death claimed him. If she didn't complete her goal, regret would become an eternal companion. Hopefully, her mate would understand.

As if reading her mind, Randall asked, "When do we leave?" Promptly, Bella pushed him onto the hardwood floors, ripping-off his slacks.

* * *

 **Foot Note:** Boris is an actual vampire within Twilight fandom. Ironically, he created Laurent. I wanted Randall to have a tangible maker. Out of all the nomads, I figured Boris would be the most likely to turn the musician.


	9. The Werewolf

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognized characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

 **Author's Note** : Thank you for the reviews, favorites, and follows! Yes, I do tend to post quickly. Truthfully, I returned to college. Writing this story has become by break treat. When you read boring texts for hours, you want to have a distraction. So, here yah go! I hope everyone enjoys this next chapter!

 **The Soldier**  
Chapter Nine: " _The Werewolf_ "

Nimbus clouds casted a dark shadow over Port Angeles, Washington. The scent of rain clung to the air, while microscopic droplets created a beautiful fog across the town. Various pedestrians strolled the sidewalks; each sported parkas and rain-boots. Bella leaned against her mate's restored Impala, waiting for his return. They decided to rent a room at the Red Lion Hotel. Unfortunately, the soldier feared being recognized by the public. Randall accepted responsibility, paying for their lodgings, while she hid in the parking lot. She remained somewhat anonymous behind the mirrored aviators, but the immortal refused to take risks. Small towns gossiped over the littlest things. The return of a dead war heroine would stir-up quite the storm.

Masculine footsteps sounded from the right. Bella needn't look; it was Randall. She moved from the car and walked towards him. A gorgeous smile pulled at his full-lips. "I got the room," he announced. The journalist reached for her hand, a lover's embrace. Latched together, they entered the establishment. The concierge seemed to brighten at his return. Bella fought the urge to growl, biting her lip. Her mate noticed the quirk. A smoldering look inhibited his contacted eyes. "You're mine, Trapper; I am yours." The words soothed the inner predator. She nodded in acceptance.

Their room resided at the end of the first hall. It was simple – nothing special. A king sized bed centered the square footage, while a desk owned a corner. There was a flat-screen television hanging on wall. Randall tossed their bag onto the mattress, while Bella locked the door. "I really wish you'd reconsider," he started, carrying on their previous conversation. In the car, the soldier requested that he remain at the hotel, while she surveyed Forks. The immortal abhorred leaving him, but the T-Bird's crimson irises revealed his diet. Bella dreaded a werewolf discovering him. One sight of him, the pack would attack without asking questions.

"It's a precaution. The wolves seem to only tolerate animal drinkers. I don't want them to attack you because of your eyes. Contacts won't full them," she explained.

Defeated, Randall sat on the bed. His cheery disposition wavered at the potential danger. "You'll take your phone, right," he asked. "Call me if anything happens?"

"I promise to take my phone," Bella reassured. "You should sightsee, while I'm gone. There's a band playing at the Sequim Valley Airport."

"Maybe. I can't say that I've ever seen a show at an airport. It might be a writeable experience," he mused. "However, I expect you to be back when it ends. If you haven't returned by midnight, I'm going to Forks."

"That sounds fair," she agreed, strutting towards the bed. "When I return, we can break-in the hotel room. I wouldn't mind paying for the damages."

"You are a vixen," Randall growled. "Now, leave so I can look forward to tonight!"

The soldier dipped down, kissing her mate. He was perfection – the other half of her soul. No other man would entrust her to care for herself. Luckily, he was born in twentieth century, the age of feminism. The journalist knew of her strength. Hell, he'd witnessed her dismember an ancient vampire. Then again, maybe, the mating bond instilled unwavering trust. Whatever the case, Bella appreciated the independence. As Peter had said, "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth." The immortal would forever live by that statement.

A few minutes later, the soldier left the hotel. Wearing converse, she bolted into the Olympic National Park. Towering pines provided protection from the drizzle. Bella headed west towards Forks. The town resided only a few miles from Port Angeles. Unfortunately, the vampire had no address for the police officer. She planned to stakeout the local station for intel. Her superior senses would gather information. Patience was key.

Exiting the vast forest, Bella entered into the quaint town. There appeared to be one main road: S. Forks Avenue. Carefully, she sprinted along the salted asphalt. Near the high school, the vampire spotted the police station. It was an unimpressive building, very small. She jumped onto its roof, assessing the occupants. There were five heartbeats – one female and four males. The woman answered the phone, while the men acted as defense. None appeared to be occupied. Small talk filled the enclosed building; none of which aided in the discovery of her father.

Sometime later, two howls pierced the western woods. The cries were stretched apart by distance. However, one seemed close to her location. Intrigued, Bella leapt from the building and darted towards the sound. If the wolves were out, she could inquire about Charlie. Plus, announcing her arrival might soothe their ire. "No need for surprises," she thought. "It would only end badly."

Thundering footsteps directed her to the wolf's location. The gigantic canine was not alone. A blonde newborn attacked the werewolf, jaws snapping at its hind-leg. Bella felt anger pulse within her veins. The pup looked like a fawn, struggling to stand. Then, the undead opponent gained the upper-hand, biting the creature's limb. Venom poured into the laceration causing the pup to curl onto the ground. Bella jumped into the fight. Both supernatural beings' eyes shifted towards her. Without hesitation, the soldier grabbed the newborn and ripped-off his head. Pure shock tattooed on his face as the decapitated sphere bounced onto the grass.

Moments later, the werewolf transformed into a teenage male. Painful screams echoed against the trees. Bella kneeled by his side, analyzing the wound. If she didn't remove the venom, the native would become a vampire – his mortal enemy. "This is going to hurt," the soldier admitted. "I need to suck out the venom. If I don't, you'll become like me." The boy nodded his head vigorously, complying.

The taste of werewolf blood rivaled whale. Its gritty bitterness took effort to stomach. Thankfully, the newborn's venom hadn't spread too far. After sieving three pints of liquid, Bella deemed him safe. The soldier removed her wife beater, wrapping it around the wound. "Thank you," the pup whispered. "Lighter…." His eyelids closed; sleep claimed him. The immortal searched for the fire. She found a Zippo chained to his ankle. Dismembering the rest of the body, Bella ignited the bastard.

Worried about the boy's state, the vampire lifted him into her arms. He needed a blood transfusion. Ignoring the werewolf's stench, Bella sped further west. An unknown force guided her to a specific location. "Muscle memory," she concluded. As a human, the soldier knew the area. She only wondered what awaited at the destination.


	10. The Native

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognized characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

 **Author's Note** : This is my longest chapter up-to-date. Phew. Hopefully, everyone enjoys it! Thank you for the reviews, favorites, and follows! I truly appreciate your kind words!

 **The Soldier**  
Chapter Ten: " _The Native_ "

A weathered ranch house ended the mystery. Chipped, red paint acted as a light tower amongst the forestry. The building oozed comfort; snippets of the past flickered within the immortal's mind. She galloped across the backyard, knowing the western entrance opened into a living room. Quickly, the soldier knocked down the pine door. A native man, sitting in a wheelchair, shouted in surprise. Bella ignored him, laying the werewolf onto a lumpy sofa. The teenager's vitals seemed okay. Sleep aided in his recovery. Much like vampires, werewolves healed at an accelerated rate.

" _Leech_ ," the disabled man declared. The soldier turned from the pup, facing him. Upon seeing her face, the native's tone shifted into disbelief. "Bella?"

"You need to call a doctor," the immortal advised. "He's been bitten by a vampire. I removed the venom from his bloodstream, but he might need a transfusion."

Confused, the native wheeled towards the couch. He removed the white cloth to examine the wound. Already, the bite had sealed. Silver crescent marks glowed against the teenager's dark complexion. "You saved him," he assessed. Bella answered with silence. In the distance, four sets of footsteps pounded against the earth – more vampires. The coven had scented their tracks. The clinging stench of their fallen comrade provided a trail.

"Stay in the house," she commanded. "More are coming."

As she exited the home, newborns plowed onto the property. Pure hatred blackened their irises. However, the sight of the soldier's scars halted their approach. Standing shirtless, Bella personified death. She released a chilling growl, causing one to flee the promising battleground. Unfortunately, the others overthrew their fear. They attacked as a unit. The aged immortal prepared for the ambush. No infant would destroy her; _she_ was a Whitlock.

As Peter had educated her, the group used their arms. Their intention was to crush with brute strength. Expecting the play, the soldier dove to the ground, swiping a leg beneath them. Comically, the newborns stumbled onto the floor. Bella picked the largest male to begin the death sentences. She jumped onto his stomach, biting into his neck. He screamed in agony. The immortal silenced him with a resounding rip.

The physically youngest newborn leapt on the soldier's back. It was a female. "You killed Jim," she hissed. The words fell between deaf ears. Bella grabbed the child's waist, flipping the vampire over her head. Shocked by the move, the girl wasted too much time. The soldier held down the newborn's body and decapitated her.

A sharp pain shot through the immortal's shoulder. The final newborn pumped venom beneath the skin. However, he latched four inches away from the sweet spot. Bella kicked the infant into a tree. The large timber cracked upon impact; its trunk collided with the forest floor. Like lightening, she darted to the boy, but a werewolf won the race. Large, russet jaws clamped on the child's head, severing it from his body. The sweet smell of victory permeated the reservation.

Bella returned to the original battle scene and dismembered the other bodies. The wolf's eyes followed her movements. She gifted him with a small smile, attempting to ease the tension. It seemed to work until the other mongrels arrived. A grey werewolf interrupted the peace by charging at her. The soldier faked right and punted the smelly creature. He sailed into a dilapidated garage. "I don't want to hurt you," she promised. Of course, the mutts disbelieved her. Another wolf aimed to kill, but like his brother, the immortal slammed him into a hard structure.

" _Enough_ ," ceased the disputes. The handicapped native rolled onto the back deck. Wide lips frowned at the pack's display. "Bella saved your brother's life – and mine. She will be treated as a Cullen. Once we've received answers, she will be escorted from our lands. Until then, you will not harm her. That is your chief's command."

The soldier dropped the borrowed Zippo onto the newborns' limbs. Violet plumes rose towards the sky. Bella walked to the elder residing in the wheelchair. The native's authority shifted into curiosity. "That was some fight," he applauded. "Where did you learn to fight like that? Did the Cullens teach you?"

"I learned to fight in basic training. However, after being turned, another vampire furthered my skills to combat immortals," Bella informed. "I am _not_ a Cullen."

"They didn't change you?"

"No, an unknown vampire changed me during enemy crossfire. I was with my platoon, The Roughnecks, in the Middle East. After we were bombed, my maker found me. I should be dead, but mercenaries interrupted his feeding."

The chieftain nodded. A sympathetic expression graced his features. He extended a calloused hand and patted her bare forearm. Bella relished the warm touch. However, the native pulled back upon hearing a wolf's snarl. "Well," he sighed, "let's head into the house. We can continue talking in there." With that, he moved towards the back entrance. The soldier offered push him inside, but he declined. "I can handle it, Bella. Thank you."

Gradually, the pack morphed into their human forms. Including the wounded pup, there totaled eight wolves. The males radiated heat causing a horrible smell. Bella stopped breathing when everyone entered the den. She felt completely out of her comfort zone. Much like the newborns, the wolves wore faces of hatred. The soldier needed to tread lightly – no slips of the tongue. Truthfully, she wanted to get the hell out of dodge. Supernatural enemies should never be confined to such small spaces. However, the elderly native deemed the room appropriate; humans were idiotic.

"Bella, I would like to ask you a few questions," the chief cleared, "but first, tell us how you became a vampire. You said that you were changed on active duty. What happened afterward? It's been two years since you were reported dead. We need details."

"Okay," she agreed. "I woke-up as a vampire in the desert. My maker deserted me after I began to turn. Once I awoke, I headed towards water. I lived my first two years in the ocean, learning how to control my thirst. My main objective was to find Charlie. I wanted to meet him.

"I entered the United States from the Gulf of Mexico. A vampire, Peter, greeted me on the beach. He is the prodigy of Jasper – a vampire that lives with the Cullen Coven. Peter welcomed me into his home; he extended my combat training. After a few days in Texas, I continued my search for Charlie. Alice Cullen informed me that he lived in Forks, Washington. However, she suggested that I take a detour in California. In Los Angeles, I found my mate – Randall."

The native held up his hand, interrupting the summary. "You speak of your father as if he is a stranger. Why?"

"Most vampires lose their human memories. I wasn't exempt from this rule. I can only remember the people that caused me pain," Bella explained. "For instance, the only person that I recognize in this room is Jacob. When I look at his face, I feel…," pausing to the taste word, " _abandonment_."

"That's bullshit, Bella," Jacob exclaimed. " _You_ left without a goodbye!"

"Probably," she shrugged, "I don't remember."

"Why do you want to see Charlie," the chief redirected. "You can't possibly want him to see you like this? He has finally accepted your death. What would you even tell him?"

"I don't know. For a long time, I knew his face. He had no name. But, none-the-less, his face helped me control the monster. I wanted to be better because of him. It's only recently that I learned he was my father. I had hoped that knowing the wolves, he might be more accepting of my… changes."

"Bella," the native sighed, "Charlie doesn't know our secret. Sometimes, I wish he did. It would make protecting him easier, but like you, we must maintain anonymity."

"Protect him from what?"

"Leeches," Jacob intercepted. "Months after you left, vampires began crawling all over Forks. They seem to be looking for you. We think someone is turning kids and sending them onto our lands."

"Yeah, they've been coming in large groups – crazy ass bitches. Once they learned about us, it's been nonstop," an unknown wolf added.

The newfound information sidestepped her previous goal. Before killing the Frenchman, he'd mentioned that Victoria was searching for her. Having lost her mate, the diabolical cunt had motive for revenge. She created a newborn army to distract the werewolves; it led to years of chase. The redhead's plan revolved around Charlie. Most likely, she'd use him as bait. However, what did she expect to achieve? Bella had enlisted upon graduating high school. Even if she'd survived the war, it'd be four years before she'd return to Washington – if she even planned on it. Maybe, his untimely death would have temporarily excused her from duty. Whatever the case, Victoria had become the immortal's main priority. She and her flock were to become ash.

"I request permission to stay," Bella asked the chief. "If Victoria is plotting to kill my father, I will to deal with her. This is not your tribe's responsibility."

"Charlie is my best-friend, Jake's godfather. He is an honorary member of this tribe. If you want to stay in Forks, you're welcome too. However, I must ask you to follow the original treaty," he decreed. "You will stay off our lands. If you feed from a human being, the pack will be forced to kill you. Also, I must insist that you stay away from Charlie. If you truly love him, you'll let him go."

Bella ignored his altruistic concluding statements. Instead, she mentioned Randall. "I need my mate to be included in the treaty. He is a human drinker, but I'll ask him to refrain while in your territory. Knowing him, he'll do it."

The chief wanted to decline; it was written across his face. Even the wolves growled at the notion. However, ever the diplomat, the native agreed. Bella gifted him with a brilliant smile. "Thank you! I'll give you my phone number so we can remain in contact. I'll call with any new information." Then, the conference ended. Two werewolves escorted her to the main road, while the others aided in their brother's recovery. All-in-all, the evening could have gone much worse.


	11. The Officer

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognized characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

 **Author's Note** : Thank you for the reviews, favorites, and follows! Hopefully, y'all will enjoy this next chapter! I've been a tad busy with work and school. I'll try to keep-up with regular updates! Pinky promise!

 **The Soldier**  
Chapter Eleven: " _The Officer_ "

A concoction of scents lingered around the Red Lion Hotel; all were familiar. They drifted from the empty parking lot into the building. One smell shrouded the others – sweet tarts. Hostility boiled beneath the soldier's skin. She clenched a fist, nails biting into her marble flesh. After numerous threats, Alice Cullen decided to test the vampire's resolve. No doubt, the pixie brought the Whitlocks to act as a buffer. "Fucking bitch," Bella seethed. Fueled with rage, the immortal marched into the hotel.

When she reached the room, the door flew open. A boyish female bounced at the threshold. The soldier pushed her aside, closing the door with a muddy sneaker. "You're beautiful, Bella," squeaked from the meddlesome midget. The immortal ignored her. She scanned the space with a tactical eye. Charlotte lounged on the bed, reading a complimentary Bible. No others were in sight. "Oh, the boys are at a concert. They'll be back soon! I thought we could have a girl's night! I brought nail polish," Alice rambled. "Did you know that purple is _the_ color this season?"

Bella looked at the digital alarm clock. The show ended in an hour. A sinful smirk pulled at the immortal's lips. "I warned you, Alice." The pixie's face slackened, a side effect of visions. The soldier waited, savoring the outcome. When the chipper vampire returned to reality, she leapt for the exit. The escape attempt was futile. Bella grabbed the woman's arm, whipping her onto the bed. Immediately, Charlotte bolted out the window.

"I am going to rip you into pieces," the soldier vowed.

"We're here to help you! If we didn't come, _you_ would be in pieces!"

"You just don't get it," Bella growled. "I told you not to look into my future. If I decided to take on a hundred newborns, it'd be my choice. You, _Cullen_ , are not my keeper."

The tiny vampire searched for an out. Fortunately, the soldier centered the room. Fear began to sweeten the pixie's pores. Bella inhaled, relishing the stench. After slaying newborns and fighting werewolves, the inner-predator itched for an encore. "I'm going to enjoy this," sealed Alice's fate. Favoring self-preservation, the vampire sprung to the open window. Like before, Bella grabbed the bitch's arm. Her skin cracked under pressure.

The soldier brought the pixie onto her knees. She squirmed like an untrained pup. "Let me go," Alice screeched. To silence her, Bella pushed her head into the mattress. A muffled scream met deaf ears. The pissed immortal bit into the woman's shoulder, ripping off an arm. Venom pulled onto the diva's designer clothes. Satisfied at the sight, Bella removed the other arm – symmetry.

"I fantasied this," the brunette chuckled. "Honestly, I should probably thank you. Once I'm done with you, I'll be one item short on my bucket list."

For ten minutes, the soldier dismembered the boyish vampire. Bella wrapped the pieces in a sheet. Taking advantage of the silence, the immortal removed the cell-phone from her back pocket. Undoubtedly, the arrival of four vampires deserved a call. Tapping the screen, she dialed the tribal chief. An unfamiliar male answered on the third ring.

"I need to speak with Chief Black. It's important."

"Sure," he consented. "Who's calling?"

"Bella," she slipped without thought.

" _Bella_ ," the man repeated, disbelief etched in his tone.

"Look, Sir. I need to speak with him. If he's not available, put Jake on the phone."

"Bella? It can't be… You're dead," he breathed.

Unsure of what to say, the soldier chose silence. She had unexpectedly outed herself. The immortal assumed a werewolf would answer the phone. It had only been two hours since the interrogation. Bella calculated the potential outcomes of the conversation; none ended pleasantly. She sighed, regretful.

"Where are you, Bells," the man pleaded. The tone twisted the immortal's undead heart. He sounded broken – an abandoned shell.

As the soldier parted her lips to speak, Jacob intercepted the call. An argument ensued through the receiver. The man demanded the phone, raging like a rapid animal. Of course, the werewolf denied him. "Charlie," barked across the line, "It's not who you think!" The policeman sniffed out the lie. A scuffle vibrated within her ear; Bella rose from the bed. If the wolf harmed her father, she'd murder him.

"Where is she," the officer hollered. A click of a revolver ceased the dispute. "Give me the phone, Jacob. I don't want to shoot you, but I need to speak to my daughter." Terrified, the wolf returned the corded device. "Bella, are you there?"

"Yeah, Dad," she smiled.

"Oh, Bells… I missed you. Where are you?"

"Close," the brunette disclosed.

"Where," he reiterated. "I need to see you."

"I promise we'll see each other, but we have to wait a couple of days," the soldier pledged. "Plus, there are things that you need to know. I'm… different. People can't know that I'm alive. Only a few members of the tribe are aware of my existence. It has to stay that way. If not, bad things could happen."

"What does that mean? If you're in trouble, we'll sort through it."

"It means that you can't talk about me. Our relationship must be kept a secret. When you see me, you'll understand," she exhaled. "And, Dad, I can't answer your questions. I'll have to lie. Please, I need you to accept everything that I'm saying. If not, I won't be able to see you."

Hesitantly, he whispered an okay. They exchanged numbers before Jacob reclaimed the phone. Bella shared the new information, swearing to uphold the treaty. As anticipated, the werewolf blew a gasket. Luckily, their previous history swayed his temperament. He agreed to remain applicable until the newborn army was destroyed. Being alpha, the pack would fall under his command. Afterward, the human drinkers had twenty-four hours to vacate the Olympic Peninsula. If not, they were open game.

Twenty minutes after the emotional call, the others returned from the concert. Randall led the group, rushing to her side. A heated kiss wiped the tension from her body. Unfortunately, their moment was interrupted by Jasper. He grabbed the makeshift sack, dumping Alice's body parts onto the comforter. The God of War shook his head, while Peter guffawed. Bella awaited her kin's ire, but the Major surprised her. "Welcome to the family, Whitlock," he grinned, knowingly. A surge of respect infiltrated her body. The soldier smiled – proud. With the family together, the newborns didn't stand a chance in hell. Soon, she'd be reunited with her father.


	12. The Dominant

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognized characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

 **Author's Note** : Well, I have to warn you. _This chapter has some mature content_. So, be prepared! And, thank you for the reviews, favorites, and follows! I hope you enjoy this next segment of the story! Thanks for reading!

 **The Soldier**  
Chapter Twelve: " _The Dominant_ "

The newborn army nested in an abandoned warehouse in Seattle, Washington. Altogether, there were twenty-two vampires cohabiting the dump. Their vicious natures combated amongst the ranks. Individuals fought for an inch of space, the concrete walls suffocating them. Ply wood boarded the windows, blocking all light. "It's unnatural," Peter commented. "Why are they staying in this shithole?" The question met silence. None understood the workings of the newest army. After twenty-four hours of surveillance, the Whitlocks realized that the newborns suffered their environment with purpose. No one left the compound without being forcibly removed. They feared the outdoors, but why?

"Maybe, they've been fed false information," Randall piped. All eyes turned to him. "I mean, if you're trying to control twenty-something newborns, you'd need leverage. Obviously, Victoria doesn't have the manpower to control them. It's possible that she fudged the facts. They're all kids – teenagers. What do they know about vampirism?"

"That's it," Bella exclaimed. "They're scared of sunlight."

The rancher snorted, "Why in the hell would they be scared of sunlight?"

"Humans believe that vampires will combust in direct sunlight," Jasper explained. "Their ignorance will work to our advantage. We can attack them during the day. They'll be too cowardly to vacate the base."

The soldier glanced at her Rolex. Morning would arrive in three hours. Slyly, she shifted attention to Alice. The recovered pixie hid in her husband's shadow. When their golden irises connected, the boyish vampire flinched. "Will there be sun," Bella asked. The Cullen nodded, ducking her head. A twinge of satisfaction stroked the immortal's ego. The dismemberment had worked like a charm.

"Well, I could eat," Peter hummed, rubbing his stomach. "Anyone want to join?"

"We'll stay," Randall stated. "The rest of you can hunt."

Decidedly, the others left the rooftop. Her mate took advantage of their solitude. Without uttering a word, the journalist began removing his clothes. The seductive display caused heat to pull between her thighs. Bella walked towards him, eyeing his exposed flesh. Randall's dick hardened in anticipation. Licking her lips, the immortal grasped his member. Jolts of pleasure wracked through their bodies. "Fuck," the soldier moaned. She used her other hand to handle his sack. Her musician needed release.

Randall undressed her as she cradled his cock. His delicate touches were slow torture. "Trapper," ghosted across her neck. Bella tilted to her head, submitting to the angelic male. He nuzzled into the scarred skin. "You're so beautiful," the journalist purred. Her mate grabbed her waist, lifting her. The soldier responded by wrapping long legs around him – still standing. Slowly, Randall lowered her onto his dick. Inch-by-inch, he filled her dripping folds. It felt otherworldly.

Still held in his arms, the immortal rocked on his member. Randall pressed her tightly against his body. All she could feel was him. Then, unexpectedly, the journalist bit into his mark. An action usually reserved during orgasm. He remained latched throughout their coupling, pumping venom into her veins. The knowledge of his essence infiltrating her body became her undoing. Bella unraveled under his dominance.

Randall settled inside her. Even after spilling his seed, he refused to detach. Bella leaned forward, offering more neck. Her mate growled, lowly. Without removing his teeth, he began to pump – again. Their juices created a delicious friction. The soldier hissed, unable to process the coital abuse. Time seemed to stand still. All that existed was Randall, a god amongst immortals. He consumed her – mind, body, and soul.

The others returned, finding them locked together. Bella vaguely acknowledged their existence. The mates' passion deterred the other women, sending them to another rooftop. However, the Whitlocks watched with indescribable expressions. Randall released an animalistic warning; it was ignored. Biting even deeper into her neck, the soldier praised his name. "Fuck modesty," she thought.

They ended their escapade after reaching their twelfth climax. Carefully, the journalist separated their bodies. Immediately, the soldier wanted to go for another round. Their fucking had been primal – hellish. Bella loved every second. After receiving so much of her mate's venom, she felt like an extension of him. One could not exist without the other. Love barely grazed the surface of her emotions.

A teasing whistle erupted from Peter. The couple faced the intruders, naked. Bella made no attempt to cover herself. The inner predator insisted on displaying her beauty. Sporting a small smirk, she stared at the Whitlocks. The rancher winked, saucily, but Jasper remained unreadable. His stoic expression accompanied by black eyes. Randall chuckled, collecting his jeans. Something was amiss.

"Put on some britches, Sugar! We've got newborns to kill."

"Yeah, yeah," Bella sassed.

As she redressed, a series of thoughts raced to the forefront of her mind. The most prominent belonged her maker. While fucking her mate, she'd disregarded the bond. Now, Bella could feel the connection. The scavenger was closing their gaping distance – quickly. She frowned, surveying the horizon. "He's coming," the soldier stated. The men soured at the information. The impending arrival of her sire threw a wrench in their plans.

"We can return tomorrow," Randall suggested.

"No, the army needs to be destroyed. I'd never forgive myself if something happened to Charlie. This ends now."

"Girls," Peter shouted, "Do you want to join the fun?"

As the immortal expected, the women declined the invitation. They opted to await their return. Bella snorted in contempt. Of course, like always, the rancher found her reaction amusing. He laughed, giving her a swift tap on the ass. "Most women aren't like you, Sugar. Females are meant for safekeeping; you go against the grain."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You're an anomaly," Jasper answered. "Typically, females are the weaker sex. Once turned, their first instinct is to find a suitable mate for protection. If they do not find a partner, they join a coven for protection in numbers. Obviously, you're different. You're a veteran that lived in isolation for years. When exposed to our coven, you left after a few days. No female vampire would seek independence. You possess the instincts of an alpha male. Hell, you even fuck like a dominant."

"That can't be true," Bella argued.

The Major smiled, tipping his head towards the women. "Look at them. They're scared shitless of you – especially, Charlotte. Their distance is an act of submission. They do not see you as a sister; they see you as a warrior. You should accept your nature."

"Then, what about Alice? She wouldn't leave me alone."

"My wife would not acknowledge your dominant nature. She continued to view you as a human. Knowing most females are omegas, Alice thought your words were all bark," Jasper drawled. "Of course, when you ripped her into pieces, she conceded to the truth. Now, she will obey you as a Whitlock – an alpha male."

Bella looked at Randall. For a brief moment, she felt insecure about the Whitlocks' assessment. She wanted to be viewed as a woman – _his_ woman. As if knowing her thoughts, the journalist gave her an up-and-down examination, his dark eyes assaulting her. Desire painted clearly within their depths. The soldier smiled at his eye-fucking. All concern vanished. Obviously, Randall didn't give a rat's ass about her mannish tendencies.

"Alright, Love Birds," Peter clapped. "We get it! Now, let's torch some newborns!"

True to the rancher's nature, he didn't wait for a reply. He leapt off the roof with a jovial hoot. Entertained, the others followed him. The promise of a challenging fight fueled the monsters within them.


	13. The Samurai

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognized characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

 **Author's Note** : Sorry about the late post. I have so much school work – tons of boring reading material. I promise to finish this story! However, I probably won't be posting every other day like before. But, I'll do my damnedest! Thank you for the reviews, favorites, and follows! I truly appreciate the feedback! I hope you enjoy this next chapter!

The Soldier  
Chapter Thirteen: " _The Samurai_ "

(Toshiro's Perspective)

Sepia irises tortured his dishonorable soul. He had meant to destroy their blinded gaze, but like centuries before, Toshiro failed. The samurai brought further dishonor onto his ancestors by condemning her to immortality. The American soldier was meant to be a quick meal – nothing more. However, the kami sent foolish mortals to interrupt his feeding. Not wasting their lives, the Japanese warrior drank their life forces. Unfortunately, his previous victim began the change. He felt his venom coursing through her broken body. It created an instantaneous bond. An unfamiliar emotion struck him: paternal love. Never having been a father, he fled like a coward. She needed to die, but Toshiro could not kill her. Selfishly, he wanted nothing more than to claim her.

For days, he ran. However, the distance became futile. Toshiro's soul was attached to the newborn; the soldier was an extension of himself. Her emotions consumed him – fear, hunger, determination, and resolve. Much like a samurai, the woman persevered in the desert. Without guidance, she managed to evade detection in the Middle East. She possessed a strong will. Fatherly pride soothed his stone heart. He knew that she needed to die, but he prayed that she would live. If the soldier remained connected to him, Toshiro would no longer be a Ronin. No, he would become the master – a man with purpose.

Days turned into weeks; weeks shifted into months. The samurai's heir survived in the Atlantic Ocean. The god of the sea, Owatatsumi, protected her. As she thrived in the wilderness, Toshiro returned to Japan. He reclaimed the land of his father, hiring architects to rebuild the shoin-zukuri. No longer a Ronin, the warrior required a safe haven for his venomous offspring. The woman knew nothing of him, but the ancient immortal planned to rectify his cowardice. For she, unknowingly, restored his faith in Bushido.

Upon the completion of the residence, the samurai sought his prodigy. Through their bond, he knew that she had returned to America. Toshiro allowed his daughter's lively spirit to guide him across the Pacific Ocean. He swam, uplifted. His child's emotions warmed the inner-demon; pure love consumed her. Never had he felt such devotion. The soldier had mated in his absence. Such bonds were rare. Toshiro realized that she never needed to die. No, she was meant to live. The heavens blessed her – _his_ successor.

Reaching land, he did not dally. The samurai cantered through Washington. Avoiding humans, he eventually discovered her position. She was not alone. Holed inside a warehouse, his daughter fought a newborn army. Three, aged males accompanied her. As a unit, they destroyed the young. Toshiro watched from the main entrance, impressed. Like a bushi, she raged with honor. He did not plan to interfere with the battle, but a redheaded female aimed for his daughter. With inhuman grace, the Japanese warrior struck the attacker. Her beautiful face cracked under his fist. She seemed surprised by the hit, eyes wide. However, the expression did not linger. Toshiro wrapped muscled arms around her, severing her delicate neck. Any creature that attempted to harm his child would meet certain death.

"I wanted to kill her," chimed behind the samurai's side. The foreign vampire faced the angelic voice – his daughter. Doe-like, golden spheres bore into his soul. She did not smile; he felt her distrust. "You're not what I expected," she continued. "In my mind, I imagined a hellish ghoul with black eyes, but you seem… respectable."

Toshiro nodded, unsure of what to say. No words could express his true feelings. Fortunately, another understood their depths. A scarred man stepped forward, venom smeared across his chin. He offered a smile in his daughter's stead. "We were wondering when you'd show," he twanged. "Bella felt your presence. She didn't know if you planned to kill her. Of course, now, we know that's not fact. I can feel your love for her. If you want, y'all can get some fresh air. Talk. We're about done here. We just need to burn the bodies."

"Jasper, I won't leave you to do the dirty work."

" _Dirty work_ ," he chuckled. "Bella, burning is the easy part. Just go."

His formidable offspring frowned, glancing at Toshiro. She sighed, heading outside. The samurai followed her into a shadowed alley. Ironically, his daughter seemed more dangerous when alone. Her breathtaking beauty acted as an illusion – a guise for the monster within her. Most beings would mistake her as easy prey. However, the crescent scars displayed her dominant power. Like him, the woman was a warrior. He could not have chosen a more perfect prodigy. The samurai sent a silent prayer of gratitude to the heavens. Even if she rejected him, she would remain his everything.

"Why did you desert me? Why not kill me?"

"Once my venom entered your bloodstream, I bonded with you. You became my daughter. Your soul tied to mine," Toshiro explained. "However, I am a cursed being, a dishonor to my ancestors. I am a samurai who cannot die. I did not want you to share my fate, but our bond weakened me. I could not kill you so I fled. I believed another would have the strength to destroy you, but you are a survivor."

"I could have killed hundreds of people," she growled. "The Volturi would have killed me; they would have killed you too."

"Death would have been a gift."

" _Would?_ "

"Our bond has renewed my faith. Each day you survived, I felt blessed. As time passed, I rediscovered purpose. You gave me the most precious gift – family. I am no longer a Ronin. I am now a master, your sire. I returned to my native land and rebuilt my father's home. It is yours. All I want is your happiness."

The soldier sighed. She parted her lips to speak but fell silent. Toshiro felt her soul twist in confusion. He reached for her, grasping her forearm. Warmth traveled up his arm. By her puzzled expression, she felt the sensation as well. "It's our bond," he soothed. "It is a physical manifestation of my love for you. One day, I hope you will accept it. I know that I have wronged you. I will never ask for your forgiveness. However, I wanted you to understand my devotion. As your sire, your father, I needed you to know."

"Thank you," she whispered.

Toshiro nodded, again. He gave her arm a gentle squeeze before releasing her. "I will not intrude on your life, but I hope you will accept me into yours. Jasper shared that you felt my presence. When you are able, visit me."

"Are you leaving?"

"Yes, I will not impose any longer. When you are more comfortable in my presence, I will be at your side," he promised. "Until then, remain safe."

"You never told me your name," the soldier stated.

"My name is Toshiro, the last samurai."

"Bella Whitlock," she politely responded. "And, I promise to visit you soon, Toshiro."

For the first time in centuries, the Japanese warrior smiled. The pull felt foreign on his face. With a short bow, he exited in silence. His prodigy's hesitant acceptance validated his renewed purpose. Toshiro needed only to wait for her promised arrival.

 **Foot Note:** Toshiro is a character developed in the films. He appears in Breaking Dawn: Part II. I thought he would be an excellent candidate for Bella's sire. Of course, I wrote a background for him. He's not an actual samurai in the film.


End file.
